Connect For...

People have been bugging me to blog with more frequency lately. It's nice, really, when they ask why I haven't posted in a while. Obviously, part of the reason I blog is for my audience, otherwise I'd just keep all these stories to myself. This particular post focuses a bit on the last person who asked me why I haven't blogged in awhile. I hope he doesn't regret his request.

On Saturday night I had a ticket to go to my friend's hockey social. Pause. Consider readers who are not from Manitoba and explain the term "social".

so‧cial  /ˈsoʊmg class="luna-Img" src="http://cache.lexico.com/dictionary/graphics/luna/thinsp.png" alt="" border="0">ʃəl/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[soh-sh<i>uhl] A traditional Manitoba fundraising event, typically held for soon-to-be-married couples. Ticket cost is usually $10.00. Event takes place often at a community club on a Friday or Saturday evening and activities include dancing/trying to hold a conversation over ridiculously loud music being played by a usually not so hot dj, a silent/rainbow auction, and a late night lunch which serves to fullfill the liquor licence requirement. One can usually expect to see a plate each of Old Dutch potato chips and pretzels on every table. The lunch will include Kub Rye bread, assorted cold cuts, cubed cheese, and dill pickels. If you are lucky enough to end up at say a Filipino or Italian family social, the amount and variety of snacks will greatly increase. "Getting Hammered" is another popular activity. Drinks aren't exactly cheap, and you're out of luck if you prefer something other than the basic vodka, rum, orange juice, cola/clear pop or beer options, but at least you know that it's all going to a worth while cause.

As I was saying...had a ticket to my friend's hockey social on Saturday night (a social to raise money for the hockey team). By 7:00 that night I was kind of not feeling the desire to go. Rob and I were supposed to go together but when I was talking to him earlier in the day he said he wasn't feeling so great. I really hoped he wasn't going to bail on the night. I knew if he did I'd have a really hard time dragging myself to go.

I closed my eyes and visually flipped through my closet, trying to figure out what I could wear. I really wasn't in the mood for changing out of my cozy University of Calgary sweatshirt, putting my face on, and doing something with my hair. Getting ready really wasn't what was dampening my enthusiasm so much as the thought of having to fake a conversation with the people I knew were going to be there.

I am approaching 25 years of age. I have been through the dramas of high school, university, boyfriends and best-friends. There are chapters of my life which I would like to leave alone. Even though they happened so very long ago (so it seems), I can still see the scars the events and people left on me. To cover them up, I grew a second, tougher skin. It allows me to get through meetings with these re-appearing characters with relatively little pain. The problem with this skin is that it doesn't have much elasticity. It's very hard to laugh, dance, relax, in this skin. Every smile and gesture is forced through politeness. Thankfully, I can easily grow and shed this skin as required.

Before picking out my clothes, I phoned Rob to verify that he was still in.

"Hello?" he sounded groggy.

"Were you sleeping?" I asked, apologetically

"Maybe."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you still want to go tonight?"

"Yeah, but only for a little bit."

"That's fine with me," I answered, feeling relieved that A) he was still going, and B) that we wouldn't be there long. At least with him there, I knew I could ease up on the defensive stance. Why? I guess there's just something comforting about his company.

When we walked in the place wasn't too busy yet. My hockey friend told us the ticket sales were very good. She recommended the vodka and Tang. As more friends arrived we got caught up on the news until the music makes it nearly impossible to carry on.

Later that night, my friend's boyfriend came over and sat beside me. I'm not a big fan of this guy, although I'm getting better at tolerating him. He was well on his way to earning a Sunday morning hangover but still kind enough to buy me a drink. I looked over at Rob.

"Don't you want to go home soon?" I asked. He shrugged in a way that told me I would be crazy to turn down a free drink. So I didn't.

The conversation with the boyfriend was amusing to say the least. I liked the part where he was trying to name off all the crops they grow on his farm. "Did I say wheat?" he asked after naming it two or three times.

He wanted me to come over to his table and meet his friends. I laughed and told him I had met his friends on several occassions before.

"We're jusabuncha goodguys, Jill. Wejus like to'ave a good time," he told me while looking very serious.

"I know," I nodded and tried to look approving.

"Andon't worry, I'll-look afteryer friend. Cuz she's ma-girl."

Touching. Really. I found myself struggling between wanting to roll my eyes and actually finding some respect for him. I suppose my friend is lucky to have this guy looking out for her. Maybe he takes that idea a little too far sometimes, but the general idea is sweet. He actually has come a long way since they first started going out. This gives me hope.

A little after midnight Rob was ready to go home. We said our goodbyes and headed off. The ride home was mostly quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind. I used the time to start forming a blog in my head. I kept getting to a point and then scratching it out to censor myself. Sometimes I wish I had some anonymity in this thing. I fear this post already has gotten dangerously personal.

"You haven't blogged in a while," Rob said, unaware how ironic his interruption was.

"I guess I just haven't had anything to blog about lately," I answered. It's a typical response amongst bloggers, I find. It's also a lie, well, for me anyway. There is always something to blog about. There is always a thought or an opinion, a memory, a pain that you want to release. There are things I want to scream on this blog in hopes that someone will surprise me and post a comment showing their agreement or at least their empathy. Sometimes it works out, sometimes I can only hope there is someone out there reading my rant and nodding, or at least thinking.

As I said, I could just write all this in a journal, but then there would never be the opportunity for connection. Nevertheless, as I got out of Rob's car, closed the door and hurried to the doorstep, I decided that I already have all the connections I need.